Without
Wickedness weaving silken webs of deciet will trap your spirit stead-fast
rotting you from the foundations, as the years of your life hurry past
the farce of heathen priests, mollesting choir boys,
simply fades into the background of faithless harsh white-noise
and still we choose to deny the existance of a good to balance out
against all the evil of this wicked world, prefering to deny and die in doubt.
Silent, very still, I lay and I lie; its all outside of my lost control,
lesions ebb life-bloods crison blush from the burns in my paper soul,
from sins without absolution, embers doomed to take there tole
and buried lies will gather flies until the maggots eat you whole.
A punishment fitting for humanitys sins and yet we cry out to be blessed,
reaching up for forgiveness, with faux faith, what God would except such behest
we detest Him for mortalities, and dispute that He even exists,
easier to pretend there is no wrong, than to take a stand and resist.
Wickedness weaves silken webs of deciet which fall over the truth like a veil
gathering mildew and dust, obscuring the sight, as your heart grows steadily pale,
how frail I am pretending I dont crave the strength of faith, its soul sootheing solace and power,
still rather than repent and accept my judgement, I blaspheme, I cry and I cower,
blaming everyone but myself for the fact ive gone astray,
"Why has He forsaken me", I curse blindly, to proud to pray.
Hebrews 11:6: Without faith it is impossible to please God,
because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists
and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.